


The Quality of Mercy

by AlineRusu



Series: The Daring Adventure of Life [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ableism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author is disabled, Aziraphale Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disability, Disabled Aziraphale, Disabled Character, Disabled!Aziraphale, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Gabriel Is Stupid, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Hypermobility Disorders, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Minor Injuries, Mobility Aids Are Great, Orthostatic Headaches, Orthostatic Intolerance, Other, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Physical Disability, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Supportive Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Crowley (Good Omens), author has chronic pain, internalized ableism, invisible disability, pots - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlineRusu/pseuds/AlineRusu
Summary: "Aziraphale had heard the word before. He knew it was invented during the Fall as punishment for those like Crawly who turned away from the Almighty’s Grace. Even so, he wasn’t sure he understood the concept, but Crawly didn’t need to know that."In which Aziraphale's corporation wasn't put together quite perfectly and he learns to accept himself as he is (with Crowley's help.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Daring Adventure of Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731769
Comments: 99
Kudos: 300





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this because the way Aziraphale holds himself is just too darn close to how I do to keep some of the pain at bay, and we need more representation for all of us disabled people over here. (:
> 
> I'm writing from my own experience, so take from it what you will. Please be nice to people who are disabled or have chronic pain. Even if you can't see it, it's very real for the person experiencing it.

The first thing Aziraphale noticed as he was slipped into the new body (Uriel had called it a ‘corporation’) was the sheer volume of new sensations. It’s not that angels didn’t experience the world around them. Quite the opposite, in fact. No, it wasn’t Aziraphale’s external perception that was startling, it was just how much he could feel coming from within himself.

Angels, as a rule, didn’t produce sensation, they absorbed it from their surroundings. In his true form Aziraphale could hear the swish of his wings as he flew through the halls, could smell the new sunshine on the new grass when he was down in the Garden, could even feel the Peace which radiated from everything in creation. Now, in this new corporation, he was immediately overwhelmed by it. His senses were just as they were before, but now he could feel himself as well.

Twinges from his midsection should be expected, he had been told. This was hunger, and it meant he had to eat. Well, at least that was one feeling identified. He could feel the force of the floor as it pressed up into his feet. He felt a tingle in his eyes and his body closed them for an instant, banishing the sensation. This would take some getting used to, but the Principality thought he could learn to enjoy this new way of being.

* * *

In the Garden, Aziraphale went about his duties joyfully, reveling in the Love emanating from everything around him. Adam and Eve were simply _lovely_ , and he was really starting to grow fond of the pleasures food could bring. It wasn’t long, however, until he discovered another sensation buried deep within his corporation, initially overpowered by the blast of new experiences. He didn’t know how to describe it. It was sort of a tingle, like when he’d kept his eyes open for too long, but duller and stronger and less sparkly, and it didn’t go away with a blink. Instead it permeated his entire body, focusing primarily on the places where his bones connected. It wasn’t pleasant. Occasionally, such as when Aziraphale stepped wrong or reached too high to get a particularly juicy-looking pear, the feeling would shift to something almost hot. It would flare and then calm back down to the ever present tingle, sometimes making it stronger for a while. The angel also noticed that his joints had a tendency to crack and pop as he moved, sometimes producing a relaxed feeling, and sometimes making the hot burning flare in his bones. Moving around the Garden was a bit difficult, but if the humans could do it, then by Goodness, so could Aziraphale.

The three inhabitants of the Garden traipsed joyfully around together for God knows how long. Aziraphale fell down fairly often, his ankles buckling on nothing at all, but he figured he’d get the hang of this body eventually.

Then came the Last Night. Adam and Eve had partaken of the Forbidden Fruit, and Aziraphale, concerned for their safety once outside the Garden, had given them his flaming sword. Now he stood on the wall, watching as his two beloved companions fled into the desert.

Aziraphale shifted slightly from foot to foot, keeping his back as straight as possible. He had discovered that this lessened the dull tingling feeling. He had his wing extended over the demon next to him, shielding him from the First Rain. Their talk had been both gratifying and confusing. He’d never spoken with a demon before, and it was not what he had expected.

“I do hope they’ll be all right…” he said again, worriedly.

“‘Course they will be. She made ‘em tough, yeah? She wouldn’t destroy her favorite creations the first night out.” The demon, he had said his name was Crawly, looked over at the Principality.

At that moment, Aziraphale suddenly felt that hot feeling run through his back and into the wing he was using to shade Crawly. It was more intense than it ever had been and it made Aziraphale shiver involuntarily.

“What’s up, angel? Something wrong with your wing?” Something flashed across the demon’s face as he said this but was gone as quickly as it had come.

Aziraphale was suddenly unwilling to tell this strangely kind demon about the feeling, opting instead for a slightly hurried “Oh, no dear boy. I was merely shaking the water from my feathers. It’s a new sensation! Quite extraordinary.” He stopped himself before he began to ramble.

They were quiet for several minutes until Crawly broke the silence. “D’you think She’ll follow through with her curse on Eve? To make childbirth hurt worse than anything?”

Aziraphale was slightly confused. “I’m sure she will. The Almighty wouldn’t have said it if She didn’t mean it. Truly though, I’m not entirely sure what she meant.”

“You… You mean you don’t know what _pain_ is, angel?”

“Of- of course I do!” he replied, somewhat defensively. Aziraphale had heard the word before. He knew it was invented during the Fall as punishment for those like Crawly who turned away from the Almighty’s Grace. Even so, he wasn’t sure he understood the concept, but Crawly didn’t need to know that.

“It’s Hell…” whispered his companion.


	2. Chapter 2

**2557 BC - Giza**

Aziraphale stood in the shadows, staring up at the looming structure before him. This was truly a testament to what Man could do if he put himself to it. The pyramid, eventually to serve as the Pharaoh Khufu’s final resting place, was incredible. The only issue Aziraphale had with it was the use of slaves to build it.  
That could hardly be called unusual, though. Slavery was a part of humanity now. The Principality had initially accused Crawly of inventing the practice, but the demon had become so upset at the insinuation that Aziraphale couldn’t help but believe him when he said that the humans had thought it up themselves.  
As he was gazing up at the nearly-complete building, the angel sensed someone suffering nearby and he went over to see if he could help. (Heaven had been criticizing his ‘overuse of healing miracles’ on humans, but he couldn’t help himself.)  
The man from whom the feelings were emanating was taking shelter in the scant shade of a stack of crates, leaning against them as he tried to breathe. Aziraphale could tell that he was in pain.  
“My good man, what seems to ail you?” he asked, sending some calming Grace out into the slave.  
The man, fairly old to be a physical laborer, nervously tried to get to his feet, but Aziraphale reassured him that he wasn’t in trouble and that Aziraphale only wanted to help.  
Slowly, the worker relaxed back into his original position. “I’m too old for this kind of work,” he muttered softly.  
Aziraphale nodded. “Could you describe your pain for me? I am a physician, of sorts. I may be able to help.” He’d found that when he referred to himself as a doctor, people were more willing to accept his help.  
The man nodded. “There’s an ache deep in my bones. It’s dull and hard, and it feels like I’m being squeezed and pulled apart at the same time.”  
The angel nodded once and reached out to heal his patient. He paused for a moment, his elbow and shoulder cracking, before trying something: as he brushed his hand across the man’s forehead he reached inside to sense the pain. It felt… strangely familiar. Like a different version of the not-sparkly tingling he’d felt since the beginning. Quickly, he finished the healing and made sure that the overseer would find a less physically demanding job for the slave.

After he returned to his humble cottage on the city limits, Aziraphale contacted the Archangels for the first time in a century. He wanted to know why human corporations had to feel pain all the time. It was Gabriel who answered.  
“Yes, Aziraphale? What is it?” He was short with the Principality, as always.  
“Yes, well, Gabriel, um…” he began.  
“Get on with it. I haven’t got all day!” snapped Gabriel.  
Aziraphale flinched, sending a jolt of tingling down his back and through his shoulders. Pain, he thought. That’s what this is.  
“Yes, sorry. Well, erm, I was wondering if you could clear something up for me. It has come to my attention that my corporation is feeling… well, it seems that it is in pain. All the time. And I was hoping that you might be able to shed some light on the subject.”  
Gabriel looked mildly startled and greatly exasperated. “Aziraphale, while I am a bit surprised by this, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Human bodies do this too, I’ve heard. Growing pains, I think they call it. It’s perfectly natural! Since you’re not human, I’m sure it’ll go away in no time once you’re used to your corporation.”  
Aziraphale huffed quietly. “Well yes, but you see—”  
Gabriel cut him off. “It’s not our fault that you’re taking forever to settle into the body we made for you. Figure it out. Now get back out there and… do whatever it is you do.” The connection went dead.

That night, Aziraphale was deep in thought as he wandered through the city. He hadn’t realized that the less-than-pleasant sensation he’d felt ever since he was given a corporation was pain. That was interesting. How sad that all humans had to exist with that every day of their short lives… But, he supposed, pain is a part of life. Can’t have a body without it. He was proof of that. He continued pondering this as he made his way to the palace gardens to meet Crawly.


	3. Chapter 3

**324 AD - Rome**

“Truly, my dear,” said Aziraphale to the rather unimpressed demon beside him. “The Baths of Diocletian are one of the best things Emperor Maximian ever thought up. You really must join me.”

Aziraphale had been trying to get Crawly, no, _Crowley_ , to come with him to a Roman bath house for decades. He had long since discovered that the hot baths and combination of the _frigidarium_ and _caldarium_ very effectively eased the pain that constantly coursed through his body, even keeping his joints from cracking so often, making them feel more stable in their sockets.

Some of the mechanisms that he had found helped him cope lead to a rather stuffy appearance, but that suited him. He always sat or stood with perfect posture, never slouching an iota. This was particularly noticeable when he was with Crowley, since the demon practically _lived_ to slouch. Just the way he walked made Aziraphale ache in sympathy. He supposed that Crowley felt he needed to assume an air of swagger and confidence to keep Hell off his tail, but the angel knew how much it must hurt him since he was stuck in a human corporation too. He longed to get Crowley into one of the baths, if only so he could help ease his rival’s (read: friend’s) pain.

They were strolling through a public garden after a truly scrumptious meal at a local inn and once again, Aziraphale felt himself begin to lag behind.

This was another thing that he did to prevent pain. Running, exercising, and even speedy walking could cause his hips and knees to groan with stress, sometimes even slipping out of place for brief moments before popping themselves back in with a jolt of agony. Really, he didn’t know how the humans did it.

There were other things too; new problems his corporation had begun to exhibit in recent months. They were difficult to quantify, especially since they weren’t as constant as the full-body ache that filled his daily life. At times, he felt his heart racing in his chest as though he had just run up all seven hills of Rome, when in fact all he had done was stand up. Along with this sensation came dizziness and a temporary loss of vision. When it was particularly bad, he sometimes became so weak in the knees that they collapsed out from under him, causing bruises to form all up and down his body. At times like these it was all he could do to get out of bed. Even food didn’t hold much appeal, as it made him feel sick to his stomach if he tried to eat too much or too soon after an episode.

The worst thing though, were the headaches. They settled in the lower back of his head, right where his spine met his skull. They pounded and gnawed at him and made light and sound almost unbearable while making him feel hot and flushed at the same time. The only relief came from lying down, sometimes with his feet propped up on a cushion. Even after he had been horizontal for a while and the sharp pains had abated, the residual ache left him irritable and nauseous for days afterward. He couldn’t always think clearly anymore either. It took time to gather the words he wanted to say and he often forgot what he was doing at any given point in time, simply standing there, waiting for… something.

“Slow down, Crowley. You’re running through the place like a chariot.” Aziraphale put his hands on his knees and puffed a few breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

Crowley came back over to his angel with a slightly concerned look on his face. “What’s up, angel? You look a bit pale.”

Aziraphale stood and immediately felt light-headed as his field of vision faded to black. He blinked a couple times and took a deep breath, the scene around him slowly coming back into focus. “I’m fine,” he puffed. “Just a bit worn out. I’ve been over in Denmark for quite a while and I really must insist on taking a nice, hot bath. As lovely as the Danes are, they simply do not know how to construct a proper bathing institution.”

 _Maybe,_ he thought, _a bath will help with this new issue as well._

The dizzy spells had begun while he was away, and he hadn’t been to a bath house since his return three days ago.

Crowley sighed in resignation. “Well then, angel, lead on. I can’t have you go unsupervised when you look like you’re about to faint.”

Aziraphale scowled at that but quickly brightened and lead the way to the baths.

They separated at the _apodyterium_ , each being tended to by a different servant. Aziraphale was waxing poetic about his love for the institution, particularly the warm baths and all they did for his sore body when the servant politely interrupted, eyes wide.

“Do you mean to say, sir, that you are in pain every moment?”

“Why of course, dear boy.” He was confused by the serving boy’s open look of concern.

“Then you must have been a great soldier in your youth and incurred a terrible wound!” The boy seemed both excited and worried by this thought.

“No, no, I never fought in the campaigns, my lad. I’m more of a, ah, politician,” explained Aziraphale.

“Then, if you’ll pardon my asking, sir, why are you forever in pain?”

The angel couldn’t hide his surprise. “Why, isn’t everyone who bears a human form? Is it not simply part of the human condition to always be hurting?”

The boy shook his head vehemently. “No, sir! I see hundreds of people come into this bath house every day, telling me of all their ills, and only a handful of them ever mention a pain that never leaves, and most of those have it as a result from a poorly healed injury or illness. Most people go their whole lives without having pain, aside from the occasional injury or stiffness.”

Aziraphale started, another twinge of pain shooting through his neck. “Really? Is that quite so?” he puzzled. Well, he’d have to think about this.

Eventually, he joined Crowley in one of the mildly heated pools. He found it was best to work his way up to the higher heat, giving himself a chance to adjust. He needed to ask the demon some questions.

As they moved to the hotter pool Aziraphale asked, “Crowley, dear, tell me, are you ever in pain?”

“Sure. I stub my toe all the time.” The demon grinned, showing incisors that were a little too sharp to be entirely human.

“Well, yes, of course, but what about in day-to-day life? Without obvious cause?”

Crowley thought for a moment, then replied, “Nah, not really. I mean, if I’ve been standing too long or walked a long way, then my feet might hurt, but I never really hurt without a reason. Why, angel? You feeling sore?”

Aziraphale quickly decided that it would be best if Crowley didn’t know the truth just yet. He needed to work this out on his own. “Oh, no, of course not, dear. It’s just that I met this delightful old man in Denmark—” He continued with the completely true story from his time away, hoping to distract his companion as they settled into the steaming water.

That day, Aziraphale discovered that no, hot baths did _not_ help with the dizziness. When he got home, he staggered to his bed and collapsed there, breathing heavily, heart beating furiously, and a headache building behind his ears.

He was so exhausted from the heat and from trying to pretend he was all right in front of Crowley that he fell asleep for the first time in nearly a millennium.


	4. Chapter 4

**1943 AD - Berlin**

It had been two years since Crowley had saved Aziraphale’s books (and Aziraphale himself). Heaven had decided that Germany needed a bit more supervision and so had sent him off to Berlin to monitor the situation there. Being a Principality, it was supposedly Aziraphale’s job to guide the human world towards a more heavenly existence. The problem was, Heaven rarely let him do such a thing, and Berlin was no different.

He was getting sick of standing by and doing nothing while so many of Her children were slaughtered by their siblings. He did as many miracles as he could swing without alerting Heaven. When he felt he was pushing his luck, he snuck into refugee camps, East German homes, Concentration camps, and tried to help in more human ways. He bandaged wounds, prayed with the dying, helped the elderly with their chores, anything he could think of to ease the tremendous suffering all around him.

Ever since that day in the Roman bath house, Aziraphale had become increasingly aware of his corporation’s complaints. He understood now that most human bodies only hurt when given reason to do so and that consistent pain like his was usually cause for concern. But it wasn’t like he could just waltz up to Heaven and ask for a new corporation. The few times he tried, Gabriel told him that it was all in his mind and he had better figure out a way to deal with it.

One time when he was Upstairs, though, he’d had a revelation. On his way out of the office after giving his yearly in-person report, he overheard Michael arguing with Gabriel. When he heard his name, he stopped to listen.

“Really, Gabriel! You _must_ be able to see the pain he’s in.” That was Michael.

“Of course I can!” snapped Gabriel. “I just don’t see how acknowledging it would make any difference!”

“Well, where did we go wrong, then?” asked the other Archangel.

“I… Well, his was the first corporation we ever tried to make. We can’t be held responsible for the…” he cleared his throat, “er, problems it has.”

Michael huffed. “It wouldn’t be such an issue if the problems hadn’t seeped into his Grace! We could just give him a new body then.” Aziraphale started as Michael continued. “But _no_ , you refused to believe anything was wrong until the damage was irreversible. Now, no matter what body we give him, it will be the same, and it’s all our fault.” Michael sounded almost distraught. Aziraphale was surprised by that. He’d thought that the Archangels held little more than distain for him.

“Shut up!” hissed Gabriel. “We don’t know who could be listening. We don’t need rumors going around saying that the Archangels fucked up. It would completely undermine our authority!”

Realizing that the Archangels’ conversation was coming to an end, Aziraphale had hurried out of heaven to avoid being caught eavesdropping.

He’d understood, then, why they would never give him a new body. If they did, their mistake would be made public. Everyone in Heaven would know about Aziraphale, the angel that could never be healed, who was broken, body and soul, from an error made by the Archangels.

Since then, Aziraphale’s body had betrayed him on a number of occasions. He simply _loathed_ the way riding horses made his hips and back feel like they were falling apart, so when automobiles became the norm, the angel made the most of public transportation. The 1800’s had been all right as well. Canes were in fashion and he found that having a third point of contact with the ground helped to keep him upright, even when his wobbling knees and trembling legs could barely support him.

Unfortunately, that century had ended and Aziraphale and Crowley were still on-the-outs. That hurt more than all his pain and instability combined. He knew he had hurt the demon but he just couldn’t bring himself to provide the one thing that Crowley could use to utterly destroy himself.

Then came the Book Incident.

When Crowley had appeared in the aisle of the old stone building, hopping up and down from the pain of walking on consecrated ground, Aziraphale had known that everything would be all right. And when Crowley had lifted his books from the wreckage, well… he just couldn’t deny the niggling feeling that had been growing in a small corner of his heart ever since the demon had made Hamlet a smashing success, just to please Aziraphale.

He knew loving a demon was wrong, but it couldn’t be _that_ wrong. Love was in an angel’s nature. Love was Divine. He didn’t worry about it too much, but he didn’t act on it either. Anyway, who would love such a broken being as himself? No, better to keep both his love and his pain from Crowley, and maintain their newly mended friendship. Some closeness was better than nothing, after all.

Today, Aziraphale was meeting the demon in a little West German café that the Demon liked. The only problem was that Aziraphale was having a Bad Day. His joints ached, his head spun, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache tickling the back of his head. He knew he couldn’t cancel on Crowley without a decent explanation but he was just too tired to try and make one up. He decided that he would push through and then perhaps sleep for a day or two. He still didn’t sleep often, unlike Crowley, but on days like this it was rather appealing.

He walked into the restaurant, stiff and precise as ever from trying to keep his ankles from turning on the rough cobbles of the ancient street. His heart swelled when he saw his demonic counterpart sitting at a little table by a window in a rather secluded section of the café. Bless him for picking a spot where they wouldn’t be easily observed. Aziraphale sank carefully into the lightly cushioned seat across from the demon, his hips complaining and wiggling in their sockets.

“Hey, angel,” drawled Crowley. Aziraphale’s insides did a little dance when he heard the nickname.

“Hello, my dear boy!” he said, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “It has been an age since we’ve gotten together like this. Tell me, whatever are you doing here in Germany?” He’d long since given up on worrying that the demon in front of him had anything to do with the monstrosities of the world. He knew that Crowley took responsibility for them in memos to his head office, but really, the worst thing he did was tie up the telegraph lines or tempt someone to spend a little too much on a day out. He spent most of his time trying to make things better for the humans. At least as much as he could without getting caught by Hell. Aziraphale loved him for it.

“Ngk. Not much. Just popped ‘round for a quick temptation, you know.”

The waiter came over to take their order. Crowley ordered coffee with a shot of some German alcohol. Aziraphale knew that he would draw unwanted attention from the demon if he didn’t order anything, so, knowing that he would regret it later, he ordered a piece of the house cake and a cup of coffee. It was difficult to get tea in Germany these days.

They chatted about the goings-on of the last century, the new inventions being thought up by humans these days, and various other bits and pieces, and despite the growing pain and discomfort he was in, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel happy.

The cake and coffee came and Aziraphale eyed it nervously. It did look wonderful… Perhaps he had misjudged the nature of his pain that day and the cake wouldn’t make it any worse. He took a bite. It was as delicious as it had looked. Aziraphale closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. “Oh, that is scrumptious.”

“Thought you might like this place. Seemed right up your alley,” replied a smug Crowley as he took a sip of his beverage.

They talked, and ate, and drank, and Aziraphale was having an overall lovely time until he suddenly began to feel his stomach turn. _Damn,_ he thought. _Not now. Not today. Why today?_

Crowley turned to him, face impossible to read for the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “You all right, angel?”

Aziraphale swallowed as surreptitiously as possible. “Of course, dear boy. Just a bit tired. Long day of miracles, you know.” This was a lie. Aziraphale had spent the entire day up to this point laying in bed trying to forget he was in pain. He hadn’t even read.

“Yeah. All right. If you say so.” Crowley still looked suspicious, but Aziraphale suddenly needed to leave. Right now.

“Yes, well, actually, I’m feeling rather tuckered out. I think I’ll repair to my home for a bit of rest and relaxation. I really did enjoy this. We should get together informally more often, my dear.”

Crowley had barely replied when Aziraphale rose as quickly as he dared, and walked out into the street. He snuck into an alley and risked a miracle to bring him back to his apartment near the arts district. He just couldn’t fathom walking all the way back just then and automobiles seemed like a terrible idea.

He crumpled onto his bed, allowing the headache and nausea which had suddenly overtaken him at the restaurant flood his consciousness. Tears seeped from his tightly shut eyes.

He shouldn’t be like this. A little pain shouldn’t make him weep from self-pity. He hardly felt any, most days, so what’s the problem? There’s no point in wallowing…

It was all just too much.


	5. Chapter 5

**3 Months into the Rest Of Their Lives - London**

Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t cancel on Crowley, that it would arouse suspicion, but he just couldn’t deal with lunch today. Just the thought of standing up made his head spin. He wouldn’t be able to hide it if he saw his demon in this state.

They had been seeing a lot more of each other lately, ever since the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t and the conversation at the Ritz when the nature of their relationship had changed. It had become more and more difficult for Aziraphale to hide his constant struggles from his beloved demon, and it was beginning to take its toll.

After they switched bodies, Aziraphale had had to come up with an excuse for what Crowley had felt while wearing his corporation. He chalked it up to being discorporated, going for a ride inside a human, and then being split off again without any warning. Crowley had seemed to accept that explanation, and it wasn’t brought up again.

Still, Aziraphale wished he didn’t have to hide it from his demon. It would worry Crowley though, and the _last_ thing Aziraphale wanted from Crowley was pity. He got enough of that from society as a whole whenever he got caught by an episode while in public.

All that notwithstanding, the angel reached over to the mobile phone that Crowley had given him and called the demon.

“Hey, Aziraphale! What’s up?”

“Yes, hello dear. I… I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to lunch today.”

“Oh,” Crowley sounded a bit disappointed, but his voice had a hint of concern too. Aziraphale never missed their lunches. “Something wrong, angel? Anything I can do?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and silently apologized for lying to his demon once again. “No, no, of course not, dear boy. I’m afraid I’m just very busy. A new shipment of books just came in and I need to catalogue them.”

“Oh,” said Crowley again. “Well, I can come over and help, if you like.”

“Oh don’t bother, it’s all right. I know how much you dislike shelving books,” said Aziraphale, trying not to panic.

“’S really no trouble, angel.” Crowley seemed determined, and that set Aziraphale over the edge.

“Yes, well, I’d really rather do this on my own, you know. Whenever you help something gets put in the wrong place.” He shut his eyes in shame at the insult/lie.

“That’s not—” Crowley started to defend himself, but Aziraphale interrupted him.

“I really must be going, my dear. Perhaps we can meet for lunch tomorrow instead? I should be done by then. Anyway, cheerio.” He hung up the phone.

He was laying on the sofa in the back room of his bookshop, having barely made it downstairs that morning. He was holding himself stiffly, trying to keep the feeling of joints falling out of place at bay. He knew he should eat something, drink something to keep his heart rate under control, but he just couldn’t muster the energy. He was still laying there five minutes later when the door banged open to reveal a slightly mussed Crowley.

“Aziraphale, what—” he frustratedly began as he burst through the opening.

Aziraphale jumped to his feet in surprise. A mistake. His joints creaked and popped, his head swam, and his vision went black. As he hit the floor he heard Crowley shout.

“Angel!”

Aziraphale slowly came back to consciousness, various sensations trickling in. The first, of course, was the ever-present pain, coupled with some new aches and bruises from hitting the floor. The second was the softness under him. That couldn’t be right. He opened his eyes to find himself on his sofa, a blanket tucked around him.

“Oh, thank… Thank Someone,” said a worried voice from nearby.

Aziraphale turned slightly, his body protesting even that small movement, and found Crowley kneeling on the floor next to him, holding one of Aziraphale’s hands in both his own.

Aziraphale briefly closed his eyes in shame and embarrassment. “How long?” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

“Not long, angel. Just a few minutes, but you scared me!” Crowley wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and Aziraphale could see just how worried his demon was.

Well, there was nothing for it. He’d have to explain now, and once Crowley found out, he’d leave. After all, who’d want a broken angel? “Don’t worry, my dear. It’s not that unusual.”

“Not… not unusual? Angel, this has happened before?” The demon’s voice was getting comically high-pitched.

“Yes, though I don’t often completely loose consciousness. More often I just black out for a moment or two.” Aziraphale thought of the number of times he’d nearly fallen in Crowley’s presence, but had forced himself to remain upright. It was too many to count. He tried to push himself up on his elbows, but the pain it caused in his shoulders and the swimming sensation in his head from trying to be vertical were too much. He shuddered and laid back down.

“Angel… What is this?” Crowley asked, worry thick in his voice.

Aziraphale sighed. Here it goes. “Well, if you really must know, it’s a problem with how my corporation was put together, though it’s not usually this bad.” He began to explain, and suddenly he found himself spilling all the painful secrets he had kept from his demon over the last six millennia. “It’s been like this ever since the Garden. You remember, I shuddered as I was shielding you from the rain. At that time, though, I didn’t truly understand what the feeling was. I didn’t even really understand the _concept_ of pain.”

Crowley nodded, remembering how his angel had tried to defend his knowledge of pain to him, a demon, the literal reason for pain’s existence.

“I didn’t even realize that what I was feeling _was_ pain until I healed a slave at Giza. I reached inside him to sense what he was feeling, mostly because I was curious, but it didn’t feel new, just different. I asked Gabriel why I was feeling pain, and he said it must be because I hadn’t gotten used to my corporation yet.”

At this, Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but Aziraphale interrupted, saying, “Yes, yes, I know dear. At that point the corporation was getting on towards 1500 years old. They thought I was just a bit slow on the uptake, and I suppose… I suppose I believed them. What else was there to think?” The angel swallowed, his throat dry. “Do you think, my dear, that you could fetch me a glass of water? I’m not sure I’m quite up to it at the moment.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and a glass of cool water appeared in his hands. “D’you… d’you think you can handle it on your own..?” asked the demon, obviously not sure what to do.

Leave it to Crowley to see everything. Aziraphale shook his head slightly. “Most likely not… I’d probably just drop it. I guess I should have thought of that before you wasted a miracle—”

Aziraphale’s apology was cut off by another snap of Crowley’s fingers. This time, a straw appeared in the glass of water. He held it near to Aziraphale’s mouth so the angel could drink.

As embarrassing as it was to be this helpless, Aziraphale gratefully took a few sips before continuing his story.

“I didn’t learn that constantly hurting was unusual, even abnormal, until that first time we went to the Baths of Diocletian together. The lovely serving boy who was assigned to me thought I must have incurred a wound in some great battle, and was confused when he learned that I hadn’t. Since then, I’ve learned to accept it, learned to live with it. It’s rarely that bad, and when it is, I just hole up in the bookshop and wait for it to pass.”

Crowley interrupted. “Hang on. If this is a problem with your corporation, why didn’t it go away when you got a new body from Adam?”

At that, Aziraphale sighed, sadly. “Ah. Yes, that. Well, as it turns out, the problems with the body sort of… seeped into my Grace. So they follow me regardless of what body I’m given. It was a bit of a shock to poor Madame Tracy, let me tell you.” He told Crowley about the conversation he had overheard in Heaven. How the Archangels had messed up when they created the first angelic corporation for him. How Gabriel had ignored the problem. How the pain he felt constantly was now permanently ingrained into his being. How the Archangels didn’t even try to fix it because they didn’t want the other angels to know. It all came rushing out, as though the floodgates of Aziraphale’s mind had suddenly burst open.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Listing of symptoms associated with POTS and EDS

Crowley knelt on the floor next to his beloved angel and listened, getting angrier with every passing moment. Heaven had done this to _his_ angel. He tried to keep calm as he gently stroked Aziraphale’s hair and held the glass of water to his lips. As Aziraphale spoke, questions sprang into Crowley’s mind. He waited to say anything more until the angel had finished his tale.

“So that’s that. I’m a broken being. If you want to leave now, I don’t blame you.”

Crowley almost choked at that. “Ngk! Angel, you can’t be serious. Of course I won’t leave you!” He placed a gentle kiss on his angel’s overly warm forehead. “I’ll never leave you, Aziraphale.”

The prostrate Principality was nearly in tears. “But… how could you want to stay? I’m nothing more than a burden to you, surely. I don’t want you to feel you have to hang around and take care of me.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do, Aziraphale,” whispered the demon.

It was quiet for a time until Aziraphale spoke, this time with a bit of a bite to his words. “I don’t want your pity, you know.” He was looking up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused.

“I don’t pity you. I love you. There’s a difference,” Crowley replied with a bit of his usual sarcastic tone.

Aziraphale looked at him “Then promise you won’t treat me any differently than you have the last 6,000 years.”

Crowley pondered that for a moment, then spoke. “I can’t promise that, angel, because that would mean I wouldn’t be allowed to care for you when you needed it. But I can promise that I’ll do everything I can to make sure that nothing changes between us. I don’t pity you, but I do love you, and that means I’m here for you, regardless of your health. Nothing will ever change that.”

Aziraphale smiled for the first time all day. “Oh, Crowley, my dear boy. You hit the nail right on the head with that.” He slowly reached up and pulled Crowley down into a kiss.

After Aziraphale released him from what Crowley thought was probably the best kiss he’d ever had in his life, he leaned back on his knees. “All right, angel. Time for some questions.”

The angel grimaced. “Very well. I suppose you deserve some clarification after so long.”

“First question,” Crowley began. “Has it been like this the whole time? This bad, I mean?”

Aziraphale thought about that for a moment before answering. “No, not really. In the Garden it was just sort of a dull ache and a tendency to fall over when my ankles refused to support me. It didn’t get really difficult until that trip to Denmark in the early 300’s. Then all the other things started happening.”

Crowley interrupted again. “Yeah, that’s my second question. What’re all the symptoms?”

The angel began to rattle off the list he’d begun in 453 AD, when he finally decided it would be valuable to catalogue everything he was experiencing.

“Dizziness and light-headedness, vision going black when I stand or sit up too quickly or for too long, occasional fainting, racing and pounding heart, headaches that feel sort of like a migraine but different, exhaustion, extreme muscle weakness, difficulty thinking at times, like my brain is full of cotton, shaking, shortness of breath, nausea, swollen extremities after standing for too long, hot and cold flashes, constant mild joint pain, occasional stronger pain, loose joints that crack and pop constantly, bruising easily, tendency for joints to slightly dislocate for a moment…” He paused for a moment. “That’s most of them. Some others are more just the rare occasional thing rather than consistent happenings.”

Crowley was flabbergasted. “Angel, you put up with all of this for six bloody millennia? I’d have gone mad!”

The angel in question lowered his gaze. “Surely not dear. I’m certain this is nothing compared to what you experience in Hell.”

“Bloody—” Crowley stopped himself from cursing further. “Love, Hell’s got nothing on this. I mean, sure, Falling was… _terrible_ but it’s _over_ now. I don’t live in constant pain because some idiot at Head Office fucked up and wouldn’t admit it!” He was breathing harder now as he tried to control his anger.

Aziraphale’s hand slipped into his own and gave a gentle squeeze. Crowley couldn’t miss the slight wince of pain on his angel’s face as he did so. “It’s all right, dear. Truly, it is. I’m used to it by now, and now that you know, well, Bad Days won’t be nearly as bad.” He said “Bad Days” as though they had capital letters, implying that they were common enough to have a specific designation in Aziraphale’s mind.

Crowley took another deep breath. “Okay. Next question. Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep it a secret?”

The angel’s words were soft this time, like he was afraid to say them. “I didn’t want you to leave.”

Silence filled the space between them for a few moments. “Angel, did you really think I’d leave you?” asked Crowley, softly.

Aziraphale shook his head as tears started to slip down his cheeks. “No, but that was almost worse! I didn’t want you to stay because you pitied me either, and why else would you? Why would anyone want to hang around a broken angel? My whole purpose on Earth is to keep things running smoothly. How can I do that if I can’t even control my own corporation? I’m broken and worthless, and a horrible excuse for an angel. I’d only be a burden to anyone who stayed around long enough to find out.” He trailed off into quiet sobs.

Crowley, somewhat distraught, reached forward and held his angel’s face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away some of the tears staining the normally rosy cheeks. “Aziraphale, love… how could I want to be anywhere other than by your side? I’ve loved you since the moment you said you’d given the bloody flaming sword to the humans because you worried about them. I don’t care that your corporation may have some problems. I don’t care, and it isn’t a burden, because it’s _you_. You’re not broken, you’re perfect. Of all the angels and demons out there, you probably have the best understanding of what it means to be human, and that’s damn well amazing.” Crowley could feel tears pricking his yellow eyes too. “Compared to all those sods up in Heaven, you’re the veritable _embodiment_ of holiness and virtue. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the single best thing She ever created, and you sure as Hell are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked into Crowley’s watery golden ones. Seeing the centuries of pain and despair in those normally joyful blue eyes pulled at the demon’s heartstrings. He leaned down and began to kiss away the tears, gently and carefully, trying to express as much love for his angel as he possibly could.

As Aziraphale calmed down a bit, he began to speak again. “Crowley, I’m just so _ashamed_. It’s almost never that bad. Most of the time it’s just a slow ache and a bit of dizziness, like you felt when we switched places.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Angel, that was _not_ ‘not that bad.’ I felt like I was going to fall apart! You mean that’s how you feel all the time?”

The angel nodded. “Yes, but really dear. It’s not all that bad. I have ways to make it better, at least for a time, and so many other people have it so much worse than I do. After all, I _can_ do most things without help most of the time.” He sighed. “The 19th century was nice… Walking canes were in fashion, there were handsome cabs on every street if I needed a lift… No one questioned it if I was particularly pale. These days I feel like everyone is staring at me if I so much as wobble.”

Crowley thought about how to phrase his final question. He didn’t want to sound patronizing or make Aziraphale think he was being pitied. Finally, he tried, hoping he got the words right.

“Okay, angel. Last question. What can I do on Bad Days to make things easier for you?”


	7. Chapter 7

Aziraphale blinked. The question wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected something more along the lines of ‘How can I help you feel better’ or ‘Have you tried *insert suggestion here.*’ But no, Crowley’s question felt sincere and honest without any of the pity or implications that he hadn’t tried hard enough to get better that he had come to anticipate.

“I… Well, I suppose I’ll have to think about it. Can we wait until tomorrow though? I’m just so dreadfully tired…” It was true. Aziraphale felt completely exhausted.

“Sure thing, angel,” replied Crowley. “Anything I can do for you right now? I don’t like seeing you in so much pain.”

Aziraphale scrunched up his face. He knew Crowley just wanted to help, but he was still very unused to having others around him when he felt this bad. He thought for a moment. “Well, I do believe a warm bath might be very beneficial. But first, perhaps a cup of tea?”

Crowley jumped into action, snapping two perfectly heated and steeped cups of Aziraphale’s favorite breakfast blend into existence.

“Think you can sit up, angel?” asked the demon. “Don’t think the straw will work so well with the hot water.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, but it’s got to be slow or I might faint again.”

Crowley was poised to help aid the change in position, but waited for permission. After Aziraphale nodded again, he felt long-fingered hands gently supporting him as he sat up. For a moment, the room spun and his heart rate shot up. He closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths.

“All right, angel?” asked a concerned Crowley.

“Yes, yes. I just need a moment to get used to being upright again.” After another couple breaths the dizziness faded to a gentle wobble and Aziraphale opened his eyes. Crowley was still gently grasping his upper arm as support. “Thank you, my dear. I believe I can handle the tea on my own now.”

Together they drank their hot beverages in companionable silence. When they had finished, Crowley suggested, “Ready for that bath now, angel?” He had a bit of a twinkle in his eye, making Aziraphale blush.

“Now, now, Crowley. Don’t get too excited. All I want right now is a warm, relaxing soak.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” said the demon, a goofy smile still on his face. He stood.

“Erm, darling, I’m afraid I may not be able to make it to the bathroom on my own without falling…” said Aziraphale.

Crowley helped him up gradually and supported him as the world shifted and spun around the angel. His vision disappeared for a moment but thankfully, he did not faint again. Halfway up the stairs, Aziraphale needed to sit down for a moment, propping himself up against the wall and breathing hard.

“Geez, angel. For someone who doesn’t technically need to breathe, you sure are a master,” teased Crowley. From someone else this might have seemed rude, but coming from his demon, the jest just made Aziraphale smile weakly.

“Heart too,” he replied breathlessly, continuing the joke. “It’s probably the most well-used heart in all of Angel-kind.”

Crowley looked at him for a moment, something soft showing in his snake-like eyes. “That’s got to be the biggest understatement of the millennium, angel.” He leaned down and kissed Aziraphale gently on the mouth. When he pulled away, his voice sounded rough. “You’re the most bloody loving being in history.”

Aziraphale blushed again. “Well. Well then,” he spluttered, unsure what to say.

Crowley laughed. “Come on, Aziraphale. Let’s get you to the tub.”

By the time they reached the small tiled room, Aziraphale needed to sit down again. He plopped down onto the closed lid of the toilet and leaned back, trying to steady himself. “Thank you…” muttered the embarrassed angel.

“Nothin’ to worry about,” replied Crowley as he began to draw the bath, making sure that the water would immediately be the perfect temperature if it knew what was good for it. “Want any of your smelly things in there with you?”

“No, dear, they would just make me light-headed.” Crowley glanced at him. “Er, _more_ light-headed. No, I just need the warm water right now.”

When the bath was full, Crowley helped Aziraphale out of his clothes and into the tub. The undressing bit was a tad uncomfortable for them both. _Thank goodness that we got all that love confession stuff out of the way three months ago,_ thought Aziraphale. It would have been _so_ much more uncomfortable if they weren’t together.

Just as Crowley was withdrawing, Aziraphale remembered something. “Crowley, dear, I… Well, I should probably warn you. This will help the pain but it will likely make the other things worse.”

Crowley paused. “Which other things?” he asked.

Aziraphale gestured absently, the lovely heat sinking into his bones and easing his aching joints. “Oh, you know, the dizziness and the heart rate.”

“Angel, should I stay then? I don’t want you passing out in the tub.”

Aziraphale sighed, pleased that Crowley had caught on to what he was requesting. “That would be lovely, my dear.”

Getting out of the bath was a bit more difficult than getting in. Aziraphale was understating the issue when he said the bath would make him dizzier. When he tried to get out on his own, he nearly toppled over onto Crowley, who, thankfully, caught him.

“Whoa there, angel. Careful.”

Aziraphale couldn’t see, could barely hear past the roaring in his ears, and _definitely_ couldn’t stand. He whimpered, almost involuntarily. “I’d like to warn you,” he mumbled, words slurring from his mouth, “I can’t really hear or see you at the moment. So perhaps, if you could just set me down on the floor so I can catch my breath…”

Instead of being put down, Aziraphale felt himself being lifted and wrapped in a towel. After a few more moments his vision began to clear, though his hearing was still mainly a loud ringing. He blinked a few times and took in his surroundings. Crowley was carrying him into his bedroom.

As Crowley gently tucked the angel into the bed, (an item which was a fairly new addition to the flat), Aziraphale’s hearing finally returned mostly to normal. “Thank you, my dear,” he breathed.

“Any time, love. I’ll let you rest.” Crowley started to leave the room.

“Crowley?” called the angel.

“Hm?”

“Would you stay with me?”

With only a smile as an answer, Crowley sidled back to the bed and crawled in next to his angel, holding him closely but gently as he began to stroke the white-blond curls.

Aziraphale smiled, tiredly. This would be a good night.


	8. Chapter 8

When he woke, Aziraphale was mildly disoriented. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, as he didn’t sleep often, but today it was more confusing than usual. There was something in the bed with him. He turned his head carefully and found Crowley snuggled up beside him. Aziraphale smiled, then frowned as he remembered the events of the day before. He took stock. Less pain than the day before, aside from a few new bumps and bruises from falling down. His joints still ached more than they normally did though. He wiggled his wrists experimentally. They crackled and snapped, causing brief stabs of pain to shoot into his hands. He winced. Well, today wasn’t going to be a Good Day, but it might not be a Very Bad Day like yesterday either. There was no way to know how dizzy he’d be until he actually got up.

Carefully, trying not to disturb the sleeping demon beside him, Aziraphale shifted himself up on the pillows, making his shoulders and lower back crack. His head spun slightly, but he felt all right.

Crowley shifted closer to the angel. “Mm… Mornin’ ‘Ziraphale,” he mumbled, still partly asleep.

Aziraphale reached down and ran his fingers through his demon’s copper-colored hair. “Good morning, my darling. Did you sleep well?”

Crowley opened his eyes and looked up at him. “Yeah. I always do when you’re with me. How about you?”

Aziraphale thought about the beautiful calmness and absence of pain brought by sleep and smiled. “I slept beautifully, my dear. Thank you for asking.”

Crowley shifted so he was sat up next to the angel. “How’re you feeling today?” He gave Aziraphale a little peck on the cheek, and the angel giggled.

“Oh dear, you are such a tease. I’m feeling a bit better today, though still not up to much,” he admitted.

“’S fine,” said Crowley. “Want some breakfast? I could run and grab some of those fancy pastries you love so much.”

Aziraphale’s stomach growled at the thought. He hadn’t eaten anything the day before, fearing the nausea he knew it would bring. Contemplating for a moment, he decided he thought he could stomach a few croissants. “Oh, yes darling, that would be wonderful.”

As Crowley got up to go, Aziraphale thought of something. “Crowley dear, would you mind terribly helping me down to the back room? I’d very much like to sit and read a book while you’re out.”

Crowley smiled and nodded. “I assume you want your clothes back on, angel?” he said, cheekily.

The angel blushed. “Oh, yes, I suppose I do. A moment…” He concentrated hard and snapped his fingers, his normal clothing appearing on his body. “There,” he said, a tad out of breath. “That’s better.”

Crowley frowned slightly, but took Aziraphale’s offered hand and pulled him to his feet.

The angel noticed the frown but was too distracted by the dizziness that came with standing to respond to it immediately. Once he had regained his full senses he asked, “What was that frown for, my dear? I did get it right, didn’t I?” He looked down at his clothes, trying to see if he had miracled them on properly.

“Yeah, ‘course you did, angel, I just…” He paused.

“Spit it out, Crowley.”

“I was thinking, should you really be doing miracles like that right now? You didn’t look too good for a minute there after you did that.” Crowley looked at his feet as he began to guide the angel down the stairs.

Aziraphale spluttered, suddenly angry. He pulled his arm out of the demon’s grasp and hung onto the banister instead. “For your information, Crowley, I’ve been dealing with this for _far_ longer than you have known about it, which has been _only one day_. I know what I can and cannot do in any given state, thank you very much.” With that, he turned away from the demon and made his way to his armchair as quickly as he could manage without falling, supporting himself on bookshelves and cabinets as he went.

Crowley was left standing on the stairs, looking forlorn. “I guess I’ll just be off to get the pastries then,” he said quietly, and walked out the door.

Aziraphale felt bad for what he had said to Crowley almost immediately after the demon left. He knew Crowley was just concerned about him, but he was so used to people (read: angels) looking down on him for his various weaknesses that he had simply reacted rather than stopping to think about the intention behind the words. Truth be told, Crowley was right. He shouldn’t have used a miracle to get dressed. It had made him dizzy and tired all over again, though still nowhere near what it was like the day before.

He stretched his legs out, knees and ankles popping painfully. They hurt quite badly after his brief unassisted foray to the armchair. He resolved to make it up to his demon when he returned, and settled into his chair with a copy of _Hamlet_ given to him many years ago. Inside the front cover was an inscription which read, _“For Aziraphale. I still prefer the funny ones.”_

* * *

Crowley sauntered down the road, electing to walk rather than take the Bentley. He was hurt by the things his angel had said but he was also a bit chagrined, knowing he’d made a mistake by voicing his worry in such an obliviously patronizing way. Of course Aziraphale knew what he could do. He’d been dealing with this for six thousand bloody years! Even so, Crowley couldn’t help but worry about him. He’d looked so very pale after that small miracle, like he was going to faint dead away again. He thought about all the times he’d seen the angel look like that in the past. Too many to count. He’d have to keep an eye out now, so he’d know when he needed to be ready to catch him if he fell.

On his way back from the bakery, a box of fresh, warm pastry under his arm, Crowley saw something through the window of a local antique shop. The demon grinned, delighted. This was perfect.

* * *

Aziraphale was asleep in his chair when Crowley returned, but he woke up to the gentle tinkle of the bell above the door.

“Oh, my dear! I must have dozed off!” He carefully closed the book on his lap and laid it gently on the side table next to the armchair.

“No problem, angel,” Crowley called from the store. When he entered the back room, he was smiling softly. “Aziraphale, I’m—” he began, but Aziraphale cut him off.

“No, Crowley, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you were only acting out of concern for my wellbeing, and I appreciate that. I’m just so used to people making comments like that in a snide and hurtful way that I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

Crowley stood just inside the doorway of the back room, looking a bit thunderstruck. “Ngk, well, even if you don’t think I need to apologize, I still think I should. I should have known better than to phrase my concern in a way that could be so easily interpreted as patronizing.” He walked into the room fully and set the pastries down on the desk, opening the box. “Well. Glad we got that out of the way.”

Aziraphale sniffed the air with relish. “Oh, Crowley, those smell absolutely divine!”

Crowley got them each a croissant from the box, gave one to Aziraphale, and then sat down on the couch, splaying out his form as usual. “Now, angel, we need to talk.”

Aziraphale’s face fell, even as he tried to hide it. He’d known this was coming.

Seeing the angel’s distress, Crowley leapt from the sofa and was at his love’s side in record time. “No, no, angel, I don’t mean that in an ‘I’m leaving, see you never’ way! I just meant…” he groaned internally at his mistake. “I just meant we should finish our conversation from last night! About what I can do to help!” He took Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it gently, over and over. “I’m not going anywhere, remember? I love you.”

Aziraphale looked down at the distraught demon beside him and smiled, hesitantly. “I love you too, Crowley. I’m sorry, I know you won’t leave. It’s just where my mind immediately goes.”

“That’s all right, love,” said Crowley, between kisses. Once he had kissed every inch of Aziraphale’s hand, he sat back on his haunches. “All right?” he asked gently.

The angel nodded, and Crowley returned to his seat on the sofa.

“Right. First, I want to get a few things out of the way,” said Crowley, firmly. “First, you said you were ashamed of needing help because you could do most things most of the time. That’s all well and good, but just because you _can_ do something without help doesn’t mean you _have to_. If you don’t want to walk to dinner because your knees hurt, tell me and I’ll be there in five to pick you up, okay?”

Aziraphale nodded again, tearing a piece from his croissant.

Crowley took this as a satisfactory answer and continued. “In that same vein, you mentioned that that 1800’s were a good time for you ‘cause you could use a cane without being stared at. Mobility aids are great, angel! If using a cane would make things easier for you, or even something like forearm crutches or a wheelchair, then for Someone’s sake, use them!”

The angel, who to that point hadn’t looked up from his lap, glanced at Crowley, a worried expression on his face.

Crowley continued before his angel could interrupt. “And I know you’re going to say that people will stare, or they’ll judge you, or whatever, but let me just say, Societal ableism is shite. The rest of the world can go to Hell, for all I care. Don’t listen to them. You’re perfect regardless of how you get around.” He paused for breath. “And finally, let me help you. I’m sorry I never saw how you were suffering these past six millennia, but I’m here now, so please, angel, let me help you. Okay?”

Aziraphale was staring at Crowley as he tried to make sense of everything that had just rushed out of the demon’s mouth. Eventually, he nodded. “I think I can at least try,” he said shyly.

Crowley huffed out a breath he had apparently been holding since he stopped talking. “Good. Good. Thank you, angel. Now. Tell me how I can make things easier for you.”

Their conversation lasted well into the day, with Crowley asking questions and Aziraphale answering them as best he could while providing as much information to the demon as he could. Things like the various kinds of human medicine Aziraphale found helpful, what to do if the angel couldn’t get out of bed, and how to treat him when he was having a moment of “brain fog” and couldn’t remember where he was or what he was supposed to be doing.

Finally, around one in the afternoon, Crowley sat back and sipped the cup of coffee he’d miracled for himself around an hour ago.

“I think that went rather well, don’t you?” he drawled.

“Quite so, dear boy!” hummed the angel, pleased by the way the discussion had turned out.

“I just have two more things I’d like to say before we move on to other things, if that’s all right with you.” He looked a bit nervous.

Aziraphale nodded, carefully.

Crowley took a deep breath and began to speak. “I want you to know that I will always be here for you when you need help. _Always_. No matter what. You’re in America for a miracle? Call me, I’ll be there in a flash. I’m over at the mall tempting a few tourists? By all means, interrupt. I’ll hop in the Bentley and see you in five. Promise you’ll ask for my help, not only when you need it, but when you _want_ it. Okay, angel?”

Touched, Aziraphale nodded, smiling shyly. “I promise, my dear.”

“Good. Good then. Oh, yeah, and the second thing. Aziraphale, you _are_ worthwhile, regardless of your relative ability or how others perceive you.” Seeing the look on Aziraphale’s face, he said, “Even if those others are Archangels. _Especially_ if those others are Archangels. You’re brilliant and kind, and just a little bit of a bastard, and I love every bit of it. No matter what society says. Stairs are nasty buggers anyway. We’ll just take the elevator.” (This last comment came from an earlier part of the conversation in which Aziraphale had lamented the sheer number of stairs in London, and how he always felt embarrassed to take the elevator to the lower floors.)

Aziraphale’s smile widened, and a few tears sprang to his eyes. “Crowley, my dear, you have no idea how much all this means to me. All this care and support… I’ve never felt more at peace with myself than I do right now.”

Crowley smiled and moved to kiss Aziraphale’s hand. After gently pressing his lips to the angel’s overly soft skin, he said, “Angel, there’s one more thing.”

“And what’s that, my dear?”

“Hold on. Stay there and don’t move.”

As he watched Crowley disappear into the bookshop he called back jokingly, thinking of how much energy it had taken him just to go the few yards from the stairs to his chair, “It’s not as though I have much of a choice at the moment, dear!”

Crowley appeared in the doorway, hands behind his back. “I, er, I saw this in an antique shop on the way back this morning. Thought it might be a good present.” He was blushing furiously, and it charmed Aziraphale to no end.

The angel clapped his hands like a child on Christmas morning. “Oh, goodness, darling, you shouldn’t have!”

Crowley held out the mysterious item.

It was a beautiful cane with a derby handle made from lovely dark walnut with a lacy gold collar around the neck. Aziraphale was speechless.

The demon brought it over to Aziraphale and handed it to him, still blushing.

Finally, Aziraphale took the beautiful device in his right hand, feeling how it fit perfectly. Crowley must have miracled it perfectly sized. He set the end on the ground and slowly, carefully, pushed himself into a standing position, stabilizing himself with the wonderful gift in his hand. Hesitantly, he took a couple steps. He didn’t feel like he was going to fall over, despite the weakness in his legs. He looked over at Crowley with tears in his eyes, seeing his demon looking incredibly joyful and glad.

Leaning heavily on the cane, Aziraphale walked over to his demon and embraced him, wrapping his arms around the one he loved.

For once, there were no words. And for once, that was all that they needed.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! I uh, sort of wrote this in a day and a half, cause I got so excited. I'm thinking about continuing this story into a series, maybe talking about how Aziraphale learns to adjust to his disabiltiy in a more effective/healthy way. Please, let me know if you'd be interested. (:
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments. It means a lot to see all the outpouring of support for the disabled community.


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